Got home this evening after pedaling off the dregs of a weak hangover (Paradiso last night, go figure) only to find a stout Priority Mail package on the doorstep. Took it in, noticing the Virginia Beach return address and the name "Jimmy Miller" written in soft-shouldered letters across one edge of the lid.
Ah, yes. It's here.
Gently cut open the box, tore through several layers of newspaper packing, and there, nestled snugly side-by-side beneath a bonus t-shirt bearing the eponymous skeleton on a scorcher, were five little bottles of that most coveted of hot sauces, Speedy's #44.
Set the box down just long enough to bolt out the door to pick up some soft tacos. This sauce wants action and it won't be denied.
Speedy's. Meticulously hand-crafted in small batches and individually bottled with all the love and care a beer-swillin', dirt-ridin', tat-sportin' culinary artisan from Virginia's Hampton Roads area can bring to bear.
Speedy's. Hot. Sweet. Bold. Savory. Complex. Iconic. Mysterious. Full-bodied.
Speedy's. Upgrade your food.
Thanks, Jimmy (and Mrs. Jimmy), for the sauce and the shirt! I'm hoping five bottles will get me through the rest of the month, but the way I pour it on, that's a bit of a longshot.
Want some Speedy's? Shoot an email to speedyshotsauce AT gmail DOT com.
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3 comments:
Ha! I enjoy seeing the words Jimmy Miller and soft-shouldered used in the same sentence.
How would you like some free beer, delivered on a bicycle?
Hope you enjoy. Let's see that t-shirt on the podium at the worlds, or at least having some drunken fun.
P.S. I hate Rob
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